


Pride & Prejudice

by DidiNyx



Series: Tales of Platonic Voltron [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Character Development, Character Study, Childhood Trauma, Developing Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Happy Ending, Exile, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Flashbacks, I Don't Even Know, Imprisonment, Introspection, Lotor is Trying, Past Child Abuse, Self-Discovery, Self-Reflection, i wish i could reference to the novel but i've never read it dfjbsdk, once again this was experimental, redemption arc, so i know not everyone agrees lotor can be trusted but here's just my input ok, some canon inaccuracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-09 09:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DidiNyx/pseuds/DidiNyx
Summary: Prejudice forbid Lotor to fit in with the Galra race. But here he found a home. And he's been working for it his whole life, dedicating every fiber in his body to keep Altea's memory alive and finally feel them with their lingering traces of alchemy. "I've...I've always dreamed of this." Even after being reminded of his ambitions Lotor still was rendered breathless and, in a revelation, discovered to even be close to tears. It was childish, but a natural reaction. Everything that could ever be desired...it was here. Finally."We are the Chosen. We cannot fail."*edit: make before season 6 so this is all lIES APPARENTLY*





	1. Oriande

**Author's Note:**

> season five destroyed me. i would die for lotor. Also on behalf of my previous interpretation of Lotor in my past fics.... I'm sorry lmao

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> again, just needed to post so here's a prologue

Prejudice, Lotor concluded, dies hard and will forever tinge melancholy and fear over those who are fooled and sedated by its erroneous power. Being a child with a shameful amount of experience to the sin of society's worship to a monopoly (also know as Zarkon's forceful reign) that misleads, the half-Galran, half-Altean prince could say that wholeheartedly. He was on the frontlines of discrimination and witnessed many of the empire's more violent ways of manipulation and gaining control. He was taught the Galran way: _Victory or death_. So heartless, so unforgiving. 

Lotor hated being controlled, yet he was held captive by the beliefs of the empire and its pressuring promise of his fate: The prince of the most vicious, power-hungry dictators known to the galaxy. 

Yet looking at the ancient ruins and walls of Altea's fantastical realm of Oriande with one of the last Alteans in the whole galaxy, Lotor's fears and hauntings were no longer shadows or silhouettes. All bitterness and hatred- all emotionally immature reactions- were replaced with child-like awe and admiration. A sense of ease and joy Lotor didn't know still existed in the depths of his soul were uncovered, just like many of the Altean statues that were also mistaken as cold reminders. The place lit up as if welcoming their current princess- Princess Allura of Altea, daughter of King Alfor... the enemy of King Zarkon after the original Voltron team split apart.

No, he could look past the Galran side and embrace his Altean side unconditionally now, with the princess. The statues were no longer just represented empty promises of a kingdom that was practically burned alive. No, they were the _Altean legacy_. Beautiful reminders of the kingdom's prosperous days, the home of those who believed in wisdom and peace over any conquering. Ruins of Altea's beauty forever outlived the Galran empire, still standing on the deaths of the countless lives they claimed.

Prejudice forbid Lotor to fit in with the Galra race. But here he found a home. And he's been working for it his whole life, dedicating every fiber in his body to keep Altea's memory alive and _finally_ feel them with their lingering traces of alchemy. This made Allura a bonus. She had a rare gift of true magic, and it solved not only Lotor's past but made new room for a bright future as emperor.

"I've...I've always dreamed of this." Even after being reminded of his ambitions Lotor still was rendered breathless and, in a revelation, discovered to even be close to tears. It was _childish_ , but a natural reaction. Everything that could ever be desired...it was _here_. Finally.

The princess turned to look at him, bright blue eyes sparkling. This, along with her pink uniform fit for traveling and seeking the unknown in space matched the mystical pink and blue hues of clouds surrounding Oriande. "Of this? Oriande?"

"To be close to Altean relics that, in spite of its tragic downfall, survived after 10,000 years worth of age and...and _revival_."

Allura smiled, clearly proud and humbled. "You seek Altean knowledge."

"Correct."

She gestured gracefully to the stone walls. "You've found it."

"Yes." Lotor smiled. It was somehow genuine.

"And you knew about Oriande? It's a myth among the Altean people- used for bedtime stories and such." She cocked her head. "I wonder how it was passed on to you... The Galra are known for, ah, trying to destroy any association of the Altean people." 

The two winced.

"It was a long time ago. I mean, when I learned of Oriande."

"Tell me."

Lotor frowned, recalling the memory. "I was...hmm, well by then I was doing the duty my fath-I mean, Zarkon, put me under as a child. You know, for training to become ruler."

Allura nodded. "Training could be both a burden and a fun time back when I was a little girl."

"Well, Zarkon knew I couldn't lead. He was ashamed of my other half. So I was sent to work on some planet he was trying to colonize and conquer, or whatever." Lotor's eyebrows furrowed. "I learned some of the citizens of the planet I was overseeing snuck some ancient scrolls of Altean myth and origin. It was apparently saved- miraculously- after the destruction of Altea."

Allura's eyes widened.

"Oriande was first of many things explained. As a child, it appealed to me. It seemed too good to be true." Lotor looked up at the ceiling with a small, cautious smile. "But here I am."

Allura looked pleased. "I don't know how the citizens managed to do it, but... That's amazing. If you don't mind me asking... What else did you do?"

Lotor now frowned. "I don't think I should bother a princess like you with some sob story."

The Altean princess simply shook her head. "No, I want to know. We have the mark of the Chosen, yes?"

Lotor gently touched his own cheek where the bright, pale pink streak of Altean magic glowed. 

"We now must have some connection."

"Yes," Lotor confirmed.

"Well, I want to know that connection. It seems logical if we start by hearing your story. There's much I don't know about you."

There was doubt as to what counted as "logical" in this otherworldly experience, and still, Lotor wanted to be suspicious of her willingness to accept him. But if the mark of the Chosen really did bound souls together, well, it was doing its job of soothing the prince to come to his senses and finally share the more hidden details of his past.

There was a pause. "Princess, may I try something?"

Allura, features lit with curiosity, said: "Of course."

Lotor grabbed her hand and watched as the Altean magic swirled over both of their wrists in a magnificent glow of ancient power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will be updated hopefully soon :)


	2. Choices of the very Chosen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> flashbacks of childhood, mates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm already almost out of motivation but i'm trying!! (my original plan was to have all of this uploaded before season 6 but idk, we'll see how it goes)

Memories were such delicate things. They fascinate all in which are intelligent enough to recall and appreciate them, from humans to species of outer space- regardless if you were Galran, Altean, or somewhere in between, even none of the above. They either satisfy you with their bliss or hold you captive with their toxic poison.

Lotor had known both through his experiences- even as just a young prince.

The palace in which he lived was less of a fantasy like Oriande and more of a living hell. With dark corridors and antique items such as weapons and paintings and flags, all bearing those similar mottos and colors... _No place fit for a child_. Lotor learned to accept it but never learned how to be fond of it in any way, never learned to fit inside its narrow box that kept out anything that wasn't considered part of the new Galran traditions. (Most of them were circled around hate and pride that almighty Zarkon still stands, that their previous teachings can be elevated due to their only threat, the Alteans, perishing by the merciless sword of the royals.)

Guards didn't want to be near him. Zarkon didn't want to be near him, nor Honerva (now missing), or any of Zarkon's blind puppets and slaves that called themselves faithful followers. Lotor couldn't touch this, couldn't do that, had to do x, y, and z whether he wanted or not. People would scoff at him, swat him away, openly insult him. And if the young child cried? So be it, they seemed to think. But take that nonsense away from us.

The young prince was doomed before he was even born. Mother helped out with scientific studies dear to both the Galra and Alteans, back when both kingdoms were connected and at peace. She was Altean, and Zarkon (then known as the leader of Voltron, the Black paladin) was Galran. They met while working alongside King Alfor of Altea himself, Zarkon's right-hand man and "brother". Somewhere along the way, things got twisted. There were fights between Zarkon and Alfor regarding how much should be risked to fully understand Voltron, the universe, and of course the kingdom's very same threats. Honerva, starving for knowledge, was determined to take these risks. The discovery of quintessence changed it all. Lotor didn't understand the whole story, but now everyone was raging for quintessence and its beauty, its power.

That power was enough to drive Zarkon and Honerva insane. In the midst of their insanity and the empire's chaos, Prince Lotor was conceived with that very strange alchemic phenomenon... not to mention a half-breed. It shouldn't have made sense, how he was shamed for being Altean though Honerva was Altean herself and was highly respected in her youth as empress. However, Zarkon- mad with quintessence- forgot his wife and everything before the Galra's new way of life he himself put the race under. Honerva became a suppressed memory, and so did acceptance and peace.

And here the child was, an unhappy prince in an unhappy kingdom that enforced nothing but cruelty and power. Strictly he was taught of how to be of royal blood, like he had to earn his title and claim from Zarkon and better yet the whole damned empire. Harshly he was reminded of his blood, how it was blemished and impure. How he'd never be the proper ruler, the proper son. Even when the child's intellect and cunning personality was considered, he could never be enough. People were determined to keep it that way.

He had two choices. One: Burn the empire to the ground when given the chance. Altea had been destroyed that way, so why not return the favor? The Alteans were his ancestors- or at least half-relatives. They needed to be avenged. Who else was to do it? All of the Alteans were dead and no one else in the galaxy was powerful enough to pull the stunt! Lotor didn't claim the Galra, just like how they didn't claim him. He was an old soul. His heart was in Altea, though scorched and deprived of its glory.

_Victory or death_ , he was told. Over and over and over and _over again_ until it was so etched into Lotor's brain that he didn't think there was anything left. That's all the world was, he decided. And that's all it will ever be until someone with enough pride and determination could stop the endless chain of immorality... Even if it meant he had to kill other himself to achieve this. _It takes two to tango_.

Two: Become emperor. Change the ways.

If he _did_ kill, if he _did_ use force... Hell, he was no better than the Galra. To distance himself from hate, he had to embrace the opposite: Love. 

But he mustn't let his guard down. He mustn't be a pushover. He had to remain like titanium and calculative as ever. And yes, he was willing to take the risks. He was ready to be like Honerva, ready to die to reach something beyond tradition. Keeping this in mind, he stayed in the middle. The goal was peace, but if he had to force it... Well, you can't stop DNA.

(Lotor realized that every time he looked in the mirror. Purple skin but adorned with the purest of all whites as his long, thick hair. Different veins, different structure, and foundation. _If this is all people are looking for, then pray, tell me what is the point?_ )

* * *

Lotor's hand twitched violently in Allura's hand as these memories were shared, the princess acknowledging it with a gentle squeeze. 

_Go on_ , her thoughts interrupted his own. _Continue_ , she encouraged. 

"P- _princess_ , I don't-"

"Shh." She looked up, revealing tears in her blue eyes. Was it sympathy, pride? Some sort of physical strain?

She was... _accepting_.

Lotor nodded uneasily, but tried to find his focus- the next portion of his memories, the next major scene of his life.

Allura had fallen into a spiral of hate, too. The Galra took away her home. Lotor didn't blame her. In fact, he never had a home, so he could relate to some extent. If he could change and deepen acceptance into another heart, the odds of himself achieving that type of equality, a type of Nirvana...

It was worth sharing this pain, then. Even if Oriande slowly transitioned to the back of his mind, allowing room for the memory of that oppressive kingdom. But he had to press on. As one of the Chosen he must fully earn Altean now, though patience was a burden more than a virtue for Lotor. 

Suddenly the dark, misty purple color faded and its place stood a cloudy, weary boarded up location soaking up the little sun in the sky. It was a planet- one in need of construction. Civilians of rich diversity littered the place, nervous of the Galra ships which had landed. Awestruck young Lotor, peering out. This wasn't the fighting he was used to. These people were in harmony, and finally, he could witness it, even if it would lead to punishment and exile-

Lotor felt Allura's pulse quicken. _She realized. She realized this is not just an inspection, but a conquest of the empire. A conquest of not just allegiance but of resources. Oh, how the Galra loved to take resources and exile their own kind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the last scene will be fully explained next chapter. having shorter chapters is annoying but i, too, do not have the virtue of patience to post this when it's all finished. feedback is welcomed and if you have any comments, questions or concerns i'd love to explain! more is coming so don't worry about the plot


	3. hope & trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor's exile and new vision part one. (because i'm lazy today)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again i'm trying :)) aka ad-libbing

"Your job is to inspect this planet of those descended from the very Ancients of the Galaxy. You will teach them our ways and enforce them as the prince you are. Perhaps this will fill in your own void that lacks respect for us." Zarkon's _exact_ words.

Yet young Prince Lotor didn't wish to spread the very ideals he loathed more than his own position in the kingdom. He may have been given threats and brutal instructions, but his own stubbornness and pride prevented him from falling into one of many Zarkon's traps lest he ends up like Haggar and her fellow lame demons. Going against the grain is a way of life, Lotor decided, and rebelling wouldn't be the worst thing done to the _ever so adored_ empire.

"Tuncay!" one of the Galran guards called. "Come!"

The village of Monlayue was unlike any Lotor has seen- granted, he was prohibited to see much, now being the exception. Markets and small houses scattered across the desert-like landscape, the sun bearing down heavily on the village after the clouds cleared away. Lotor's purple skin prickled at the sensation, purple skin forming irritated patches across the youth's arm. The empire had been so cold and dark, but this town had an open look to the sky. Lotor, who had once curiously studied the stars said to be the prime blessings of Altean culture, wished to witness the beauty of the Ancient's culture. (Sure, the place was rusty, but it had an undeniable feeling of homeliness that seemed so natural.)

"'Ey, _veniotta_!" a civilian said, jogging towards the Galra. He had a head wrap on and long, flowing robes. Spotted skin spread across the old male, tan from the overwhelming sun. He had kind, timid green eyes that scanned the guards first before flickering down to Lotor. The man smiled, mildly amused, and Lotor wondered if he had been staring. Embarrassed, Lotor blushed and looked down as the guards gave the man instruction.

"-if any trouble at all is caused by this one, you are to contact Emperor Zarkon immediately. If we come to find the colonization inadequate by Zarkon's standards within the next twenty quintants, you'll be answering to the Galran's respective..."

Lotor couldn't pay attention. Everything in the atmosphere was buzzing with new feelings, sounds and sights foreign to even dreams. Eventually, the guards made Lotor recite their oath. (Only years later would the prince discover that the "oath" was completely made up, its use to discourage and lecture Lotor in hinting that he still had to prove his loyalty. Though not far off, it was infuriating for it was dishonest, and disgusting how Lotor had submitted to words of folly for years without question.) Self-conscious and aware of the other nearby villagers staring and muttering at the purple, white-haired boy, Lotor rushed his words and gave a weak salute. Satisfied, he was eventually left on his own with Tuncay as a guide.

Tuncay practically bowed for Lotor, mumbling his respects in a language the prince did not yet understand. Astonished, Lotor didn't say his end of the peace proclamation. Tuncay looked up, confused, and Lotor regained his wit and automatically recited the words, trying his best to mimic the way the foreigner pronounced his vowels. The man looked almost impressed. "Young prince," he said in broken Galran, "you pick up one words quickly...?"

Mutely, Lotor nodded.

Tuncay considered this. He turned to the crowd and exclaimed something in his language that aroused excitement.

" _Eugili_!" they called back to Tuncay, all smiles and wonder.

"We welcome you," Tuncay said, taking Lotor's hand. Usually he'd shrink away from such contact, but suddenly all his trust was put in the mysterious village Lotor desired to explore. 

* * *

All that time was spent on Lotor appreciating and participating in the Ancient's culture, not enforcing his father's ruthless ways. Lotor asked dozens of questions, much to Tuncay's amusement. He even let a female merchant dress him in the common clothing they wore. Lotor was not what the people had expected. The prince of a notorious kingdom? Surely he'd behave his father! But no, he was different. He was willing to learn, willing to break tradition to seek another.

Tuncay pointed this out to Lotor, and the prince shrugged. "Someone's got to do what's right. If not me... Why, they took down Altea which lasted thousands of years, perhaps billions! Within a single week, all of its kingdom, people, traces of art and writing... Gone, just like that. If not me to preserve a _true_ legacy, who else? It could take one billion more years."

The elder was silent before saying, "Come. I must show you something."

Lotor let Tuncay take his hand to lead him to an old, crumbling temple. Dozens of villagers encircled the temple, on their knees praying or singing to some song that Lotor only vaguely understood. _Something about a bronze moon? Did they worship the moon? The beat, it sounds familiar, like those of..._

"Altea." Lotor flinched when the name was spoken. "You are interested in Altea? You are Altean, young one?"

Lotor slowly nodded, twisting the belt that tied the traditional Monlayue clothing he was wearing. 

Tuncay had a distant look in his green eyes. "Us Ancients owe much to the Alteans. They were one of our biggest trade partners, and they taught us much about their ways of peace of prosperity." Tuncay raised his fist and shouted " _Victaire_!"and the others around repeated merrily. The elder continued: "They taught us to give. They taught us about light, and Oriande..."

Lotor's eyes widened. "You know about-"

"Come, brother," Tuncay urged. "Come sing with us."

Lotor backed away. Tuncay was astonished to see tears. "Prince! Son of Zarkon! Why do you cry? Shush, shush, _quiea_..."

Wiping away tears, young Lotor asked: "You- you won't run away? Because I'm different?"

"How? How different?"

"Be-" _Cough._ "B-because I'm a half-breed? Because... the Galra took the light from you?" _Hiccup._

"Look here," Tuncay demanded. "The Galra have done many wrong things but we still have our light, our temple, our songs. They can't take away our culture. They can't take away DNA." He lifted the youth's head up. "And it is very clear to me that you are _not_ your father's son. You're going to change what your people do, mark my words. Now come. The temple of the Monlayue on Terra Day is not to be for sorrow."

Lotor, spiritually moved, obeyed.

* * *

"They... Zarkon. This is why you got exiled?"

"Yes, princess. They forbid anything that offends the empire. This so happened to be halting their already dominant conquest. Plus, they didn't love me." Lotor laughed bitterly. "They say you can't take away DNA. Well, you can break habits so easily, and that's almost the same thing."

"Prejudice. That's all I've heard about the Galra."

"This is true. But I'll be damned if pride can't get me out."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the language Tuncay speaks was made up (but LOOSELY based on Latin)


	4. dance along the light of day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was about to give up with this but I have sUDDEN INSPIRATION though the content is still the same lol sorry about that. Oh and for the record I meant to have this done before season 6 because I know most fanfics for now on will only be regarding that and I didn't want to mess that up but oh look what happens when you procrastinate

The bright sky dimmed as if expecting Zarkon's arrival along with the various citizens that came to watch the exchange with keen, worried eyes. Lotor and Tuncay were at the city's borders, looking at the horizon. At any second, the Galran ships could arrive. And then Lotor would be forced to go back home- or worse.

Tuncay's tired, green eyes surveyed Lotor with astonishment. The young prince squared his shoulders, chin high with cold, calculative eyes. A fire was burning subtly but dangerously in those eyes, and he seemed suddenly older than he really was. Tuncay's heart swelled in pride. He'd only known the prince for a few months but he was determined to not let his ruthless father get to him. He didn't seem afraid. He was headstrong. He was brave. He was a survivor.

"When Zarkon comes..." Tuncay said, then averted his eyes. No, he shouldn't worry the prince.

Lotor's fire dimmed and he visibly slouched slightly, but it was a quick hesitation. "He'll send me away. I know he will." Lotor said calmly, dismissing the elder's concern.

"But- sir," Tuncay insisted. "Surely there's something you can do... How are you not upset? I thou-"

"Oh, I'm upset," Lotor said bitterly, scrunching up his nose in disgust. "But Zarkon cannot hurt me. I am not afraid." 

Something told Tuncay he was. Maybe it was the quick, downcast look. Or the fact that Lotor's hands flinched when he said his own father's name. Otherwise, he looked onwards, a stoic expression that outweighed both these movements. If only there was a way to protect him. _Please, save the future king._

The future king.

These were not Lotor's thoughts, he realized when the memory became hazy. These were Tuncay's. Oh, Tuncay! Just and kind Tuncay who actually felt sympathy and pride for the young prince so obviously tormented by his peers, people who saw him nothing more as a lifeless portrait to be hanged on the wall just so they could cover it up once more with a curtain when his reign was over- Which would never come now, the Galran must have thought, since the prince was to be exiled as soon as possible.

The ships soon arrived, and Lotor noticed Tuncay gulping. He turned listlessly to the citizen to tell him to keep his head up (literally and metaphorically, for the Galra could have felt extra vindictive and open fire on the helpless city, if so desired, and Lotor wanted them to have a fair warning) but paused when he saw the man's tears. 

"Tuncay..." Lotor started gently, and the elder wiped them away quickly before grabbing the prince's hand. "Listen here," he said in his weak Galran tongue. "If I could, I'd keep you here so you could explore all the planets you wanted without- without having to fear the hate and pain." Tuncay paused to swallow a sob before continuing: "Know that there's always more- more than what you know, more than what they tell you and the discrimination they inflict upon you. _Never_ lose that spirit, that fire." He squeezed Lotor's shoulders as the young prince wept too. "You're going to live. And you're going to shed light on their dark, bleak, treacherous ways-"

"You!" a Galran soldier interrupted, pointing his gun directly at Tuncay. "Don't speak to him!"

Lotor looked at Tuncay's pale, thin face, beads of sweat trickling down. The prince was worried that the poor man would faint.

" _No_!" Lotor screamed, trying to block Tuncay from harm. "Run!" Lotor cried. "Run!"

His sleeve was caught and Lotor was thrown to the ground. "S-stop!" As he kicked the guards away, one took Tuncay harshly by the hands and tried to bind them. "You're hurting him!" Lotor protested.

Tuncay's eyes finally met his. "Don't stop-" He wheezed and struggled out of the Galran's grip. "Don't stop searching for the truth, young one! May we bless you-" He was pulled back, then hit upside the head. Lotor's vision blurred like it had been himself that was hit. "NO! TUNCAY, PLEASE-"

"Shut up, half-breed! Your father will be here- stop struggling!" Lotor's effort was to no avail and he was practically dragged out of the clearing. Chest heaving, Lotor eyed the retreating civilians, gaping and screaming themselves at the scuffle.

Somehow, he had confronted his father after being dumped onto the ground. There was no escape; soldiers circled around Lotor, weapons ready as if they'd hurt him if the prince was to run. 

"Lotor," Zarkon said with disgust. "What are you _wearing_? You're wearing the clothes of those damned species when you should have been teach-"

"SHUT UP!" Lotor yelled with revived rage, his last bit of strength. "Why are you hurting innocent people! Tuncay was-"

" _Lotor_ -"

"Tuncay was my _friend_!" Lotor met the closest guard's eyes, glaring. "How _dare_ you-"

" _ENOUGH_!" Zarkon's own yell of inimitable hatred silenced the whole planet. Even his guards looked unnerved. The eeriness left Lotor breathless, close to tears. _I could die right here_ , Lotor darkly thought. _He could kill me. They could all kill me. They could burn everything, right here and right now. All of this could be gone, lost in oblivion, as it seems I am too._

"Son," Zarkon said the word as if he was being smothered with toxic air."You are not to disobey me again. You have done an erroneous, terrible act of disloyalty to my empire-" The lecture went on. Lotor, still shocked and heaving with bitterness and rage that didn't seem to abate, went in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he caught Zarkon's excellent vocabulary of vile words, other times overwhelming sad and scared beyond control over Tuncay, other times plotting revenge and last but not least: hoping. Oh, it never did him any good before, but Lotor thought maybe if he begged and prayed hard enough it all can be over. He could just die right here and be sent to Oriande. Maybe the Alteans were still there, wishing for his return-

Zarkon dismissed him. Lotor was once more dragged, this time through the city and not on the Galran ships. Lotor was confused but didn't give it much thought, for his head was still hazy as if Zarkon's words drugged him and prevented any rational conclusion. 

Once his vision cleared, the young prince anxiously searched for some sign of Tuncay. Other villagers eyed him warily as if he had done something wrong. Lotor knew that look, it was not one of pity but fright. Why, it was the Galra they should be fearing! 

Suddenly the guards halted to a stop, and their grip tightened on Lotor's arms as they pulled him up into a standing position. Lotor scanned the surroundings. They were in the middle of the town, but for what? What were they trying to-

A carriage-type vehicle came into view. Odd, those weren't used much at all, even in poorer planets, right? Why have such primitive tools when they had countless ships across the galaxy? Then Lotor's fate suddenly became clear, and his eyes widened in understanding. Instead of the typical carriage opening, there were prison bars. _No, no, this was fake, this has to be a simple trick to scare me. Surely that- that couldn't happen-_

Lotor tried to free himself, but the guards forced him first on the roof of the vehicle which had an opening on the top. If it was opened, and the lock used, Lotor would be imprisoned in there, forced to go Altea-knows-where. 

"Hail, Prince Lotor of the Galra army," one of the guards announced mockingly. "The one who has interrupted your home today. An enemy to the empire..." The guard met Lotor's cold, questioning eyes. "And an enemy to your people, for he is the reason the great Tuncay of Monlayue will cease to reign."

"No!" Lotor protested, choking on sobs. Everyone stared at him now, bound against his will and breathing in agony and with humiliation, his raw emotion exposed for everyone to see. "I didn't kill- Tuncay isn't- It can't be-"

Who had slapped Lotor would never be solved by the prince himself, but Lotor was suddenly blind with tears and rage as he tried to lunge forward right when the top of the carriage disappeared. Lotor fell harshly inside, the top being locked as he clawed at the walls and tried to force the bars to break. But it was useless, and Prince Lotor of the Galra Empire was powerless. Lotor wheezed as the screams of many being easily heard. He wished he could curse them all for being so petty and standing around when Tuncay could have been hurt- or hell, did they have no sympathy for the prince himself!

"I am not afraid, I am not afraid, I-" The carriage started to move. He was being exiled, he was going to vanish and no one would know who he was. No one was going to care, Lotor realized helplessly. He had to start over. He was being forced to- forced to- Well, he didn't even know! But it was a terrible fate. How could he find the truth when he was hidden from everything except lies?

Lotor was sick of looking at the village. He sat down, running a hand through his long locks. The carriage was cool against his sweating form. The darkness blocked the sunshine, now coming out as to mock the prince of glory he never had- and probably never will, if this abuse continues.

Lotor took a deep breath. "I am not afraid. They can put me behind bars, kill any good thing that is to happen to me, mock me, bind me, image me as a martyr and disgrace to be put on a pedestal as an example of what can happen when you mess with authority... But no, I cannot believe this is the end. I must keep going. If for any second I doubt myself, it can cost me my life. I am here to prove there is something more out there. I must hold my head up high, as Tuncay said. I must stay proud. They say that is the most fatal of sins, but if I am to survive I must do it. I must bear the pain it gives me. I must prove them wrong."

_Yes, I must prove them wrong._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only really wrote this so I could at least have one (1) Lotor fanfic. Mostly more experimentation. Therefore it's not the best but hey at least it's out there! Commentary is appreciated. <3 Maybe one day I'll rewrite this. But yeah, next chapter is most likely the last and I'll try to have everything cleaned up as much as I can in the resolution.


	5. we're going to be legends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is worth mentioning that sense Voltron season 6 changed Lotor's character arc this fic is no longer accurate and I no longer stand close to my previous view that Lotor had righteous reasoning for what he has done throughout the seasons. So, for the sake of finishing this and not putting my work to waste, consider this a redemption AU. Kind of. Or at least an AU where Lotor isn't a piece of shit. Thanks <3

Lotor had already been living in a prison, but this one was much more literal. The jail was huge, located on some Galra base which was really just an unoccupied planet- probably because they forced all who lived there out. Corridors and corridors of jail cells seemed endless, containing rogues, thieves, maybe even murders, but all in which had one thing in common: They were forced here because in some shape or form they opposed the Galra.

Countless half-breeds were common, and Lotor gaped throughout the first few weeks being surrounded by his own kind. They sometimes gave him queer looks- _it's probably the hair,_ the ex-prince though, _it's white_. Whether or not they recognized Lotor or not was unknown, though Lotor doubted they would. Zarkon shamed his son and practically hid him away from the public's eyes. Yet surely there were memories of broadcasts that unmistakably showed Lotor as the heir to the throne Or at least part of the royal blood, surrounded by those guards and soldiers? If they did give Lotor cruel looks, it was usually because Lotor had either been staring or pacing far too much into the night, the others complaining about his angry footsteps. Not because who he was- which was honestly a relief.

In fact, Lotor almost preferred the jail. Sure, it was miserable seeing all those captives, but hell, no one knew him. He was finally left alone, yet with the price of overwhelming plots of revenge and escape. Lotor scanned the jail up and down but it was almost impossible to get past the guards, he knew. They'd take the prisoners out for exercise and a quick relaxing period outside, and sometimes to eat lunch, but those damnable binds still kept everyone together.

Lotor couldn't say how many times Lotor wanted to scream to them to obey him, for he was the future prince and if he continued to be neglected he could order for them to be hanged. Alas, by now news of Lotor's exilement would most likely be common throughout not only the empire but the galaxy. Besides, Lotor was stripped of his title. Whatever privilege he had beforehand- and that was still barely any- didn't apply now. If it did, well, Lotor was sure they'd find a way to avoid his orders anyway. He was used to being ignored.

The prince tried to talk his way out of binds by appearing as helpless (and sometimes as brash and violent) as possible. But those guards simply couldn't give less of a damn. _Well,_ Lotor thought angrily. _I'll just starve! Then they'll be sorry!_ But hunger was simply something he couldn't resist as a young, ex-prince. (He often refused to eat when he was in the kingdom but only when the guards themselves tried to force it upon him. If he was going to eat, it would be on his own terms.) No matter what hostility he showed, it only proved to be annoyances and no success was made. 

Finally, Lotor gave in to his desperation and sneakily told a few prisoners that seemed honorable that he was the prince of the Galran empire and demanded an escape. When they'd laugh, Lotor recited as many speeches he knew of Galran literature but, of course, they were ignorant of these. He gave information on specific, important dates in the Galran calendar. Then he practically begged and threatened until the others pushed him away and he was left crying angrily and openly for everyone to see, much to Lotor's disgust. _Fine! Watch me cry!_ he thought bitterly. _Oh, if only I had some weapon- that would scare them. If only those damn Galrans over there just claimed me to convince these fools I am in control._ But he wasn't. And he had a long way to go.

* * *

Eventually, Lotor's chance came. One day while his section of the jail was outside (more or less) enjoying their little freedom, an anguished scream was heard from the opposite end of the field. Of course, screaming was normal but this voice was particularly female and youthful and it certainly sparked Lotor's interest. "Help!" the voice called. "Someone! Please!"

A tall form made its way into the clearing. She had a remarkable, queer appearance for she looked chameleon-like, overall pink but with blotches of yellow and blues covering her skin. Instead of hair or fur, she had a long ponytail-shaped that was essentially made out of her reptile-like skin. She wore a simple plain white shirt and grey leggings. Her round, dark blue eyes frantically searched nearby prisoner's faces, begging for their pity and help as she went on her knees and pouted until they tried to call her off. "Oh, please! Oh please oh please oh please-"

"Shut up, half-breed!" someone shouted, and Lotor felt his eyes sting for her. Her eyes widened, and Lotor half-expected her to bawl and throw a tantrum but instead, she held her head up high and squared her shoulders haughtily. "Oh, you damnable furries!" she cried, which confused Lotor. "You won't do anything unless a petty coin was involved, eh?" She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and stood angrily with her hands on her long, pointed waist. "Fine. We'll do this the hard way. _Here_..." She pulled a single coin from her belt, frowned with a bored expression, and held it up for the others to see.

They were astonished, and greed filled their eyes. Lotor gaped. _How come she took control so easily? Why, if that scrawny girl was telling me what to do, I'd simply whip her with her own ponytail!_ But he felt a rush of pride- and hope. If she had money, perhaps she had gotten it from the outside. Prisoners searched you and took whatever is useful, and Lotor knew well enough guards survived on minimum wage. Taking a simple coin from a brattish lizard wouldn't harm them.) And the outside meant freedom.

"Hmph," she grunted, and tsk-tsked. "Unlucky for you, I'd pay for your lunch and everything. Why, I even-"

"I!" Lotor cried, and she turned around quickly. "I mean," Lotor cleared his throat. "Fellow half-breed, I shall help." He stood up straighter, trying not to be feel intimidated by the silly girl. "What do you need?"

She smiled, and it would've been pretty if it wasn't so tight and if she didn't look so murderous. "Honorable Galran! I shall take you. Come, we haven't a moment to lose." In a single jump, she was close enough to Lotor to grab his arm and drag him as she ran to the opposite of the clearing. Lotor yelped and tried to keep up with her long legs. "Hurry!" she squeaked, fright coming back over her. "My friend needs help!"

"What?" Lotor panted. "Where are you-"

"Shush! Can't let the guards hear us! Oh, and by the way," she flashed him a quick smile. "The name's Ezor. Come, hurry!"

Lotor's mind raced. _Friend? Help? Ezor?_ However, he had no time to reflect for abruptly the girl stopped and Lotor nearly tripped over her feet. She pointed to the top of the building, where a ladder stood to assist guards with the captives on the top floors. "My friend is somewhere up there stuck," Ezor hastily explained. "If the cord snatches she'll die!"

"Wait, why-"

"I'd help her myself but..." She trailed off. "Zethird told me not to be a baby and to stay put. She said if we screwed up again we'd be done for, and..." She suddenly looked back at Lotor's bemused expression. "Well, climb! Help her! Just thinking about being so high off the ground makes me sick... Hurry, for the love of Alfor, half-breed!" she snapped, and Lotor found himself cursing yet oddly wanting to actually help. _This could be my only chance_ , he reminded himself.  _I need someone on my side. And this Ezor chick has already proven to only act if she is paid in return._

Sure enough, tangled in some cord and dangling far off the ground on top of the building was a heavyset female cursing up a storm and trying in vain to free herself without falling to her death. Her deep, rough voice reminded Lotor of some female Galran general he once knew. She'd been the one to first slap him and recalling the memory Lotor froze until Ezor screamed at him from above. The other female- _Zethro? Zethree? Zorthrod?_ \- must have recognized her friend's voice. "Ezor? OH, FOR THE LOVE OF ZARKON!" and Lotor once more flinched. "You're going to attract attention, you dumbass! Oh, and now I'm yelling!" She suddenly met Lotor's eyes. "Oh, it's you," she said disapprovingly. 

Lotor frowned. "How-"

"Oh, just save me before my pride takes better judgment," she snapped, and Lotor had no room to disobey.

Lotor was now right beside her. "Um-ma'am? What am I supposed to do-"

"You dumb washed-up goat!" She cried. "Free my legs and then I'll be able to hoist myself up. You hear? Go!"

Lotor nodded submissively and did as he was told, silently cursing Ezor's name along with the jail as a whole. Finally, the female was able to do just as she said, jumping onto the roof before the cord snapped. Then there were the sounds of guards, and thinking fast, Lotor hit one of the alarms on the side of the walls to distract them. It alerted them of Galran ships and it gave the trio time to run inside unseen in order to avoid punishment. Lotor screamed when he saw Ezor with them on the roof. "I thought you said you were afraid of heights!"

She gave him an _Oh, silly me!_ smile that was supposed to be an apology, but he knew she had lied for whatever reason. Either way, he knew he'd been played so she could get some personal award. Lotor bit his tongue in hate. Oh, she was going to get it.

Panting as they entered inside, Ezor whooped in joy. "Oh, that was so much fun, Zethrid! We should do this more often and-"

"Quiet!" Zethrid practically yelled and Ezor slouched suddenly in fear. "I don't understand why you insisted on going through all that trouble just to-"

"Oh, but the plan worked," Ezor said nonchalantly. "And it was _my_ brilliant idea."

"Yes," Zethrid muttered. "Brilliant."

Suddenly another formed appeared out of nowhere, and Lotor yelped. She also seemed reptilian, with blue skin and a purple stripe that went from her forehead to her upper lip. Her long tail lashed out fiercely, though she had an overall calm demeanor. She had no eyes, not even sockets. She wore a simple black romper-styled outfit, minus the glamor. 

Ezor grinned. "Narti! You made it." 

Zethrid frowned. "Where's Kova?"

"Wait," Lotor protested. "Aren't any of you guys going to explain-"

Something leaped onto Lotor's head, and as the ex-prince yelped he saw a thin black cat with long blue ears make its way into Narti's embrace. Narti didn't utter a single word. The cat meowed impatiently, and Narti cocked her head. Though she had no eyes Lotor had a feeling she was staring right at him.

"That's Kova," Ezor explained.

Lotor brushed off his worn purple collared shirt. "Okay, I get that, but what in the name of _Alfor_ was all of that? Why me, why you guys, why..."

"I'll explain!" Ezor said, suddenly sitting down Indian style, as if it was some long, interesting ghost story she'd recite at a slumber party. "We've been watching you, Prince Lotor."

Lotor gaped, and before a thousand questions came out of his throat Ezor rushed: "No, let me explain. We, too, are captives, of course. Similar to you, we are also half-breeds." Lotor's faced flushed, but he kept silent. "We, er, sneak around a lot. We know this place inside and out. We're able to get news from the outside quite easily." Ezor raised an eyebrow. "Now, before you start accusing us let me just say that our way is through Kova. She can communicate with Narti telepathically. Strange, right? No one can arrest a cat, so Kova can easily come in and out of the prison. Anyway, once he heard the news about the heir to the Galra's throne being exiled- and then you show up, _obviously_ Altean- well, we ate that up."

Lotor narrowed his eyes. "So there's a reason why you want me. Speak up, reptile."

Ezor laughed, once more with her haughty air. "Well, duh!"

Zethrid shifted her weight to the other foot impatiently. "Like you, we're discriminated. You're a prince- well, ex-prince, but it'll have to do. You're used to commanding, using power. You want revenge, and we could sense that from the very first day you arrived. Like Ezor said, nothing gets past us."

"We want to escape," Ezor said bluntly.

Kova meowed in agreement.

Lotor saw that coming, but now their reasoning was more evident. "Well... that's understandable. But, I have to say, I hold no power now. I'm lucky you guys even know I'm the ex-prince."

Ezor rolled her eyes. "We're Galran too, you know. Besides, you must know a thing or too about any refuge place, or...?"

Lotor nodded. "Okay... Well. I guess that settles it. I'll help you. I want freedom as much as you guys. Just, ah, you could've asked me."

Zethrid shrugged. "We wanted to test you. Besides... Now that those guards are busy, maybe there's still time to just bounce?"

Lotor's eyes widened. "Wait, do you guys know-"

"Kova knows," Ezor corrected. "Let's go."

* * *

And so their rag-tag family began. The five (counting Kova, of course) escaped and went through many trials to find homes and plot of justice for their kind. Lotor found it hard to accept the fact that he was already trusting the females in spite of enemies and traitors his whole life. It put him at ease, however, that they had a common interest and background. Plus, they were now convicts. They had no option but to stick together; the galaxy was a harsh place for loners. Really, for our kind in general, Lotor thought. But that was okay. They were plotting- and thanks to Lotor's unfinished business with the empire, they had a chance.

After Lotor told his story, they all decided if Lotor was in power he could persuade the Galra to his new philosophy of peace and prosperity for all races- no matter if they were half-breeds, or a multi-breed, or whatever. Lotor also had more personal aspirations: Maybe if he could convince the empire of equality for different races, maybe he could keep Altea alive. Maybe he could continue Honerva's work...

 New determination flooded Lotor's system. Yes, he could avenge his mother from her horrid reality. He had a chance to prove he'd always been more than some vile, helpless creature his kin treated him as. He could finally avenge Altea, make a legacy of his liking. And nothing would stop him now.

Of course, there was a lot he had to learn. Being used to the castle, living on the streets and running constantly from dangers was especially harsh. Adjusting was hard, and if it weren't for Zethrid, Ezor, and Narti, Lotor doubted he could've ever made it. They were strong, and they had lived like this their whole lives. They had experience, and wanted to taste victory just like himself.

The extra bonus was that they had weapons and knew how to use them. As a prince, Lotor was no stranger to swordsmanship and fighting, but he never thought he would ever really put his skill into use until he managed to take the throne (which, for the longest, wasn't going anywhere). Ezor gave him his first dagger. Zethrid wrestled with him and tried to give him pointers. Narti was useful in her own way, helping him stay calm and collective and consciously aware of his surroundings.

Soon there would be one more family member, and then the tides would change. See, at first, Zethrid was basically the leader of their team. She was strong and considerably the most experienced. Once Lotor caught on, however, he became the leader. He was what connected them all, the one with the power and ultimately was the one knowledgeable enough to make the tough decisions. Zethrid still proved to be a strong leader, so she was second in command. But once Acxa was found, she'd be the right-hand man (or, woman, rather).

They found her while they were in a financial crisis. She happened to be in the same place at the same time- with the same intention: to swindle the guy they had targeted with the exact amount of money they needed. At first, they chased her down and ultimately the team clashed. But once everything was sorted out, they arranged a compromise and offered a spot in their group. Acxa first huffed that she worked alone, and Ezor was amenable to the idea. "Great! See you never, rogue!" she cried in frustration. (They had a particularly bad scuffle.) However, Acxa was chased down by the authorities days later and Lotor convinced his team to help her out- she did, of course, help them. Why not return the favor? Besides, she was useful. She had a mix of Ezor's agility, Narti's focus and Zethrid's control and strength. Overall, she was intriguing, and Lotor longed to have her.

And so he did. Acxa gave in, and though she was quite cold, she proved her loyalty and wit. Lotor especially liked her- they had the same bitterness that didn't fade, even in the heat of battle. They had a long history of direct abuse and humiliation, therefore they had lots of common ground. Once he announced Acxa's position, Ezor complained for the rest of the week until Acxa finally blew up in her face about it- the team's first real indication of her hidden rage. Over time, Ezor eventually grew fond of Acxa and soon they were the most compatible in spite of their obvious differences (and bickering).

They were family. Yes, they were all a little beaten but they found comfort in being surrounded by protectors and friends they could rely on. Lotor never had a real family, so this was a relief. That's why it was a shock to everyone that Lotor could ever be found with the blood of one of their sisters on his hands. Lotor's memory skipped to the day he was overwhelmingly controlled by rage that that wretched Haggar controlled Narti to spy on his plans. Everything he could've worked for could've been gone, just like that. Years of being persecuted, years of living on the streets and just _dreaming_ of the end- it could all be over. All logic seeped from his mind as he swiftly raised his sword and- with all three witnesses- killed Narti. It was a quick, inevitable death. Lotor was satisfied with the deed and marched on, ordering for Acxa, Ezor, and Zethrid to follow through with the plan. Damn, a few days ago he was in power and now he was exiled again- They had not a moment to spare.

Impulses just like this were common now. He was willing to kill those paladins of Voltron, kill his own father, kill anyone who was in the way of his glory and twist their minds if needed. Though he promised to be more than the spiteful Zarkon and his hag mother, with all the killing and lust for quintessence- he was falling in their footsteps of failure rather than properly avenging Honerva's death- and Altea's. _Victory or death._ That was the common mindset. Now that he was so close, he couldn't risk seeing the end. So he prevented it, no matter the cost. If a few lives had to be taken, so be it. Once he was fully in control, things would be different. He didn't have to hide anymore, he could finally belong. 

He was even willing to side with the "enemy". Voltron could help him. Allura of Altea could help him. If only he could just get his hands on that quintessence...

Now here he was. Voltron finally accepted him in their coalition. Now he had the Princess Allura of Altea, and she had the power of a true Altean alchemist- exactly what he needed. She was his last true connection to Altea- the home he always dreamed of but never had. Now he could learn of Altea and value their virtues... He didn't have to fight the Galra side anymore! Once he hit Oriande, he believed he could be free.

But you can't stop DNA. _Victory or death_ circled his mind, and sometimes he wasn't aware of it. He knew Alteans were peaceful- but hell, what did he truly know of peace? All he knew was violence. It should've been no surpirse that the White Lion let Allura collect its secrets, but not Lotor who threatened it with his own sword that he chose to kill Zarkon with. The same sword that contained Narti's blood and Alfor knows how many others. He was brought up to conquest, to destroy. No, he wasn't like the beautiful Allura. His mind was never at peace.

Never. That was a strong word. He never was the son Zarkon wanted, he never wanted to be like Zarkon, he never held Altea's true secrets, he never learned how to rid his mind of that constant, taunting phrase that labeled him a monstrosity for all his life. He was never truly accepted, and now never truly trusted. Pride kept him alive, and yet it fought all these revelations and ideas. Pride was ultimately the catalyst for his demise. _I can never fail. I must never stop. And once I'm in power nothing will ever be the same._

* * *

 

Lotor's mind flashed in and out of the past until he was aware of Allura tugging at his wrists. "Lotor," she said, voice muddled. "Stop at once. Your- this nightmare, look, it's over now. We're still in Oriande, see?" she added gently. "You've come home."

Lotor scanned the pastel colors around him, remembering where he was. "I- How much did you-"

"Enough," Allura said, and Lotor finally met his eyes. "I don't think I could ever truly know you, Lotor, but... I get it now." She took his hand. "As the Chosen, we have a duty to prevail, a duty to bring honor to our ancestors. Sharing these with me... I- thank you. I understand now. And- you might've taught me a thing or too about Altea."

There was an astonished expression on the prince's face. "I don't understand. What could I have taught you?"

Allura's blue eyes shone with tears. "That no matter who you are, it answers your call. That we are all one- Altean or not. Because their stars guide us to be better, to seek knowledge and peace. No matter what you've done, no matter what you could ever be... Altea can be found. Altea can be reached. Your journey especially emphasizes this." Allura smiled, holding Lotor's hand tenderly. "Altea welcomes you."

Lotor's fears and anguish washed away for that quick moment, though it seemed like centuries passed as he embraced that Altean pride. They were for peace yet they fought no matter what- fought to keep their world alive. And now he was within the glorious ruins of Altea. He was experiencing acceptance. It was the closest to the sweet dream he always imaged but was never able to grasp. As he held Allura's hand, a sudden peace rested his vengeful soul. 

The rest was silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess im? kind of satisfied with the ending?
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/12283770/chapters/27922110 the group chat is slowly getting made bare with me
> 
> ps i did not edit this so spare me. also hhahaha yay hamlet references at the end. woop

**Author's Note:**

> queennyxie.tumblr.com
> 
> Allura fanfic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13080057/chapters/29922558
> 
> My other Voltron works: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DidiNyx/works?fandom_id=10104017


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